The Night of the Dark Glasses
by Tripidydoodah
Summary: This is a sequel to TNOT Howling Light, in which Jim's conduct is looked at in a different way. Artie once more sticks by his best friend and sorts things out in the end.
1. James West Sees the Light

The Night of the Dark Glasses

Chapter 1

 **James West Sees the Light**

" _What's done can't be undone" – William Shakespeare_

Jim and Artie were standing by the punch-bowl at the Presidential reception for yet another foreign dignity. That sort of duty was okay; they got to wear evening dress, which especially pleased Artie, who spent so much of his time in unflattering disguises. Sometimes, if the job allowed, there was also the opportunity for dalliance, of the fleeting kind, just what Jim liked. But it didn't have the blood-quickening excitement of being on a field assignment and could, frankly, be quite boring.

 _Maybe that was for the best_ , Artie was thinking. _Maybe they needed a little light work, after what they'd been through_. It was less than a week since they had brought in Dr Arcularis, who was currently awaiting trial, and the whole business concerning him, and his treatment of Jim, had been preying on Artie's mind ever since.

"It still bothers me that we had to save that monster, Arcularis," Artie said. "When I think of what he did to you..."

"And to you, don't forget."

"Yes, well..," Artie replied. He still felt ashamed that he had tried to kill his partner, even though he had been forced to do it by the evil Arcularis.

After practicing on Jim, Arcularis had perfected his technique and was able to get to the stage of complete control over Artie much faster. It had been intensely agonising and harrowing. Thankfully, after he had come round from the pasting Jim had deservedly given him, he had soon become himself again and only vaguely recollected his actions. Artie was more worried about Jim, who had spent a week under the care of the mad Doctor. That conditioning had to have gone really deep.

While couples were dancing past them, Artie had been looking at his Jim but his partner had been keeping his eyes on the entrance, when he saw a matronly lady of advanced years enter the room. Suddenly, Artie saw a small derringer appear in his friend's hand and realised it was pointing in her direction. Quickly, before Jim could pull the trigger, Artie grabbed his wrist and forced the gun downwards. It went off, taking a chunk out of the polished floor, and kept firing until the chamber was empty, causing the women in the room to either gasp or shriek, depending on their proximity to the explosions.

"Jim, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Artie said, in a strangled voice, still holding tightly to his wrist as he wrenched the gun from his hand and slid it into his own pocket. Then he took in the expression on his partner's face and knew that questions were useless. It was completely blank; he didn't even know Artie was there.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim had come back to his senses shortly after the shooting occurred and was now sitting on a sofa, in one of the side rooms. There was an armed guard standing nearby. The guests had been calmed down and assured there was no need for panic. The president was circulating, making sure that normality was resumed and the sound of music was drifting through from the ball room.

"What happened, Jim?" Artie asked. "Why did you try to shoot Mrs Anstruther?" Colonel Richmond was standing behind him, waiting for the answer.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I remember her entering the ball room then things went blank, from that point onwards, until I found myself being bundled in here."

"Jim," Richmond addressed him, "you've committed a federal offence. Don't you have anything to say in your defence, any explanation?"

Jim looked up at the two worried faces above his. _What could he tell them?_ He realised the Colonel was speaking again.

"I'm not going to put you under arrest, Jim," he said. "I hope I don't come to regret this decision, but I'm going to send you back to the Wanderer with Artemus. You'll be under a form of house arrest. Get some sleep and I'll arrange for a doctor to come out and see you in the morning. Don't let me down, Jim."

"He won't, Sir," Artie answered for him. Richmond had made it clear that Jim was his responsibility, for the time being, and for the sake of his partner, he wasn't going to give the Colonel any cause to reverse his decision and put Jim in jail.

From the frown on Jim's face, he didn't agree with Richmond's decision but he didn't say anything, because he knew he'd been let off lightly, and he needed time to think and find a reason why he should have wanted to kill someone he'd never met. A period of house arrest would give him that time.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Back at the Wanderer, Artie was making sure all the doors and windows were secure and alarmed. Jim sat on the couch and watched him, head bowed.

"I don't like doing this," Artie said, turning to him, "but what I saw back there really scared me. Your face was a complete blank. When you're in your right mind I don't think you'd try and escape from me, but I don't know what would happen if you blanked again."

"It's all right," Jim said wearily, "it's been a long night and I just want to go to bed. You can take what precautions you like."

Artie looked uneasy. "I'm glad you said that, Jim, because I'm going to have to lock you in your state room overnight."

Jim looked up at that. It was something that he hadn't considered but he knew it made sense, from his partner's point of view. However, it didn't mean he had to like it.

"You do what you have to," he said quietly. Then he got up and went to his room.

Artie followed after him and made sure to lock the door. He would have liked a long talk with his friend but he knew they were both tired and Jim needed rest more than anything at that moment. He stood by the door for a while, listening. From the sounds he heard, he concluded that Jim had simply thrown himself on the bed, without bothering to undress. Artie sighed softly. He still Jim's small derringer in his pocket and he knew he should have searched Jim's room, to make sure he didn't have any other guns in there, but he just hadn't the heart for it. He turned and made his way through the train, making sure all the other firearms aboard were safely stowed away and out of Jim's reach.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie was up bright and early the next morning, so that he could unlock Jim's door before he awoke, that was if he'd gone to sleep at all. If possible, he didn't want his partner to be reminded that he was under house arrest too much. That done, he headed to the galley where he brewed a pot of coffee and prepared some scrambled eggs.

He'd finished breakfast and was catching up on some reading, or at least trying to, when Jim appeared. He was glad to see that his friend was looking rested and that he had taken the trouble to wash and shave, though he was still in his dressing-gown, as was Artie.

"Do you want me to fix you something? Artie asked.

"No, just coffee will do just fine, thanks," Jim replied, pouring himself a cup.

Artie felt bad as he noticed, for the first time, the deep bruising on his partner's wrist, where he had gripped it tightly the night before.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked.

"How do you think?" was the terse reply.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Jim," Artie said, thinking he'd hit on the reason for his friend's grumpiness.

"Don't be nice to me, Artie, we both know that, last night, if it hadn't been for you, I would have shot an innocent woman. How would you feel?"

"I guess I'd feel the same as you," Artie replied, "but if I were in your shoes, I know _you'd_ tell me not to blame _myself_. Jim, this was something out of your control; you had no choice in the matter. I could see it in your face."

"That's part of the problem. I've based my whole life and career on being in control. Oh, I know I have to accept that there are certain things outside my control, that's the same for everybody but, when it comes to my actions, that's a different matter. I have to be the one making the decisions. If I'm not then it's all over for me."

Artie was worried at the turn of his partner's thoughts. "I hope you're not thinking of doing anything rash," he said.

"Don't worry, I'm going to sit here obediently and wait for the doctor to give me the once over. You never know, he might find out what's wrong with me. Trouble is, part of me wants to know but the rest is terrified of finding out."

There was a sound from outside.

"Looks like the doc's here," Artie said.

Dr Foley was well-known to the two men. This was not the first time he'd been called in to treat one or both of them.

"Hi, Doc," Jim said, opening the door, "come on in and join the party. We're having so much fun."

"Hello, James, Artemus," Dr Foley replied, removing his hat. He glanced at Artie who shook his head slightly, to indicate that he shouldn't pay any attention to Jim's sarcasm. The Doctor realised that Jim was just trying to hide his nervousness so he smiled and said "I hope I'm not too early. I thought I'd get you out of the way before I deal with my patients who are really ill. I'm sure you'll turn out to be as fit as a flea."

"Don't worry, Doctor, you're timing was just right," Artie replied.

"Come this way, Doctor," Jim said, heading toward his room.

"Or would you like a cup of coffee first?" Artie asked.

"I'm fine for the time-being," Doctor Foley replied, "perhaps later," he added, following Jim.

While the examination took place, Artie used the time to wash and dress. He paid particular attention to his facial hair, finding that the concentration needed to use the sharp razor kept his mind off current events. Then he stopped by the galley to make a fresh pot of coffee. By the time he emerged again, the Doctor had finished his examination and was waiting for him in the varnish carriage.

"Can I pour you that cup of coffee now?" Artie asked him.

"Thank you that would be most welcome."

Artie poured them both a cup. "Well, Doctor Foley, what's the matter with Jim and is it serious?" he asked.

The doctor scratched his head. "Physically, I can't find anything wrong with him, except for a nasty bruise on his right wrist, which he claims is due to an accident."

 _That was typical of Jim._ Artie thought. "If he's all right physically, do you think there's something wrong with him mentally?"

"It's hard to tell. Although medicine has advanced a long way in the last hundred years, we still know very little about the working of the human brain. There could be some physical defect there but I could find nothing external to indicate any injury or disease."

"Have you any suggestion as to what we do next, Doctor?"

"That will be Colonel Richmond's decision, but I would recommend Jim remain here for the time being, until further investigations can be made into what caused him to blank out. Rest is probably the best medicine for him anyway."

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Artie vowed.

"I wish you luck," Dr Foley told him.

"Busily planning my future?" Jim asked, entering with an easy smile on his face. Artie knew how much it cost him. He was dressed but wore a smoking jacket, signalling the fact that he wouldn't be leaving the train any time soon.

"Nothing that should worry you," Artie reassured him, "all you need to do is make sure you get plenty of rest."

Jim's face fell, though he had expected as much.

"You'll be reporting back to Colonel Richmond?" Artie asked the Doctor.

"I'm leaving now to meet with him. No don't bother to show me out. Good-bye gentlemen," he said, remembering to put his hat on before he left.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	2. The Light gets Darker

Chapter 2

 **The Light Gets Darker**

" _Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know." - William Shakespeare_

After talking with Doctor Foley and consulting with the President, Colonel Richmond set up some enquiries and, the following day, called the two agents to his office.

"James, Artemus," he greeted them. "Please sit down! Now, before we go any further with our investigations into what happened last night, I'd like to do a more thorough debriefing of the Arcularis business, just in case that has anything to do with it."

Both men nodded in agreement. "I'll do my best to answer your questions," Jim said.

"I don't want to go into the methods Doctor Arcularis employed," Richmond began. "Those were well-documented in Mr Gordon's report. I trust you've read it, James?"

"Yes, Sir, it was very thorough."

"I know this is a sensitive area, James, but I want to ask you about the point when you finally broke and did what Arcularis had programmed you to do. Give me as full an account as you can. All it says in the report is that it happened after one of the many times you had been exposed not just to the lantern but to the elements as well."

Jim thought back to that terrible stormy night, the wind and rain lashing his naked torso and the lighthouse lantern shining into his face, blinding him.

"I recall Arcularis' words, _'Press the trigger, Mr West, kill the bad Indian and it will all be over!'_ I tried to hold out against the programming but I just couldn't." There was anger and frustration in his voice. "And I did just what he asked. There was a revolver in my hand and I shot at the dummy of Chief Ho-Tami. Even after all the chambers were empty, I kept my finger on the trigger. I couldn't fight it anymore."

Artie was well aware what it had cost Jim to remember those details, but Colonel Richmond wasn't satisfied yet.

"I understand Doctor Arcularis was talking to Ahkeema. What was Ahkeema doing while this was happening?"

James' brow was creased in concentration, as he tried to bring up the memory of Ahkeema's face. _What had the Indian been doing?_ It started to come back to him out of the darkness that, he hadn't noticed till then, had been shading part of his mind _._

"I remember him standing there, just staring at me, while Arcularis was talking. Hold on, I recall a brilliant light; it was shining in my eyes, blinding me, but I just couldn't take my eyes away from it."

"Was it the lighthouse lantern?" Artie asked.

"No, I wasn't looking in that direction, I was looking at Ahkeema; it was something to do with him."

"Now, we're getting somewhere," Colonel Richmond said. "There's someone in the next room who might be able to shed light on this for us. I'll go and fetch him."

Richmond crossed his office and unlocked the door to the adjoining room. "Mr Longman, please come in," he said, and ushered a middle-aged man into the office.

"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Mr Longman. Mr Longman, these men are colleagues of mine, Mr James West and Mr Artemus Gordon."

"Pleased to meet you, sirs," Longman said.

"Mr Longman is a reporter," Richmond explained, "and he was in the hotel lobby where James was supposed to shoot Ho-Tami. Please will you tell us what you witnessed, Mr Longman?"

Well, Sir, Mr West came down the stairs into the lobby; he didn't say anything, just stood there a while and then headed toward the Chief. Then when it looked like he was gonna say something to him, he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs again. It was all mighty strange."

"What about the shooting itself?" Richmond prompted.

"That was a real shock. Mr West drew his gun and I was sure he was going to shoot Ho-Tami. Then suddenly he turned his gun on Mr Ahkeema and let him have it."

"What about Mr West, did you notice anything in particular about him?"

"Yes, he was looking and acting odd-like. There was no expression on his face and he seemed to be under some kind of strain. He looked at Mr Ahkeema and he seemed to be squinting. I guess it was on account of the big shiny tie-pin he was wearing."

"Ahkeema was wearing something shiny?" Richmond questioned, noticing that West was listening intently, on the edge of his seat, as if all this was new to him.

"Yes, he had some sort of jewel or bauble in it."

"And Mr West was looking at it before he shot Ahkeema?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Mr Longman, I don't think we need to take up any more of your time," Richmond said.

Longman stood up and the Colonel escorted him from the room.

"Well, this has been extremely helpful, gentlemen," Richmond said.

"I wish you'd explain it to us," Artie said.

"Perhaps you'll understand if I tell you that I spoke to Mrs Anstruther last night and I noticed she was wearing a brilliant jewel at her throat, a large yellow sapphire, encircled by diamonds."

"Good grief," Artie said. "So he responded to the jewels, but that wasn't part of the programming."

"Obviously something went wrong. James, tell me how you broke the programming."

Jim looked perturbed. "I knew from the beginning that it was important to fight the conditioning. I told Indra to fight it and I knew it was working; I was getting through to her."

"Ah, you kissed her," Artie said knowingly.

Jim ignored him. "I had been fighting the conditioning but I couldn't hold out any longer. As you said, I broke. ' _A triumph of science over bravery'_ , was the way Arcularis put it. But there was something about the tie-pin Ahkeema was wearing. It was reflecting the light from the lantern and shining right into my eyes and, as soon as I saw it I think, somewhere in my brain, I had an idea that, if I could concentrate on it, I could use it to block the programming and seize back control. That was why I was able to shoot him and not Ho-Tami. Seeing his tie pin, as he was standing in the hotel lobby, released me from the trance."

Artie jumped up. "I have a theory," he said. "We know that you turned away from Ho-Tami, to begin with, and you have put that down to your efforts to break the conditioning. You say it was finally broken when Ahkeema's tie-pin caught your eye, right?"

"Yes, that's what happened," Jim said.

"Or maybe it can be seen another way," Artie said, worry in his voice. "What if the light shining from the tie-pin began to take the place of the object of the programming? What if you didn't quite manage to take control back, in that hotel, but your brain seized on the sight of the tie-pin to divert your murderous intent to the wearer, Ahkeema."

"Are you saying I would have shot him even if he'd been totally innocent, or that if someone else was present, wearing a similar item of jewellery, I would have shot them?"

"Yes, Jim, I'm afraid I am. It makes sense of why you tried to shoot Mrs Anstruther. As she entered the ball-room you saw the jewel at her throat and it probably reflected the light from the chandelier, which made it stand out even more. You followed your programming and shot her."

"What?" Jim exclaimed.

"Artie, I think you've solved it," Richmond said.

"We know what went wrong but how are we going to put it right?" Artie asked.

Both men turned worried looks on Jim, whose face was now as white as his shirt.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie and Colonel Richmond had talked his theory over with Doctor Foley. He told them that not enough was known about the human brain, or the mind, for the theory to be either accepted or rejected. "Our insane asylums are full of people, the greater part of which have no accurate diagnosis," he said. "There is something you could do, though, to test your theory. Place Mr West in the same situation again and see how he reacts. You'll have to be careful, though as it may be a very dangerous undertaking," he warned.

"I think it can be managed," Richmond said, after Foley had departed, "but we mustn't let Jim know what we're doing."

"We need to do it as soon as possible. If I'm right, then Jim is a danger to others, as things stand," Artie said.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"Jim, I've found a doctor who thinks he may be able to help you," Artie announced, entering the Wanderer, the following day. "He's willing to see you this afternoon, but we have to leave now."

"I don't know, Artie," Jim said. "I've already seen one doctor and I don't see what good it would do for me to visit another one. If you were right about my condition then there's nothing anyone can do anyway." Jim was still not dressed, even though it was late morning. Artie suspected that he had been sitting listlessly on the couch since he'd left him a couple of hours ago. He was dismayed at the way Jim had become so introverted. _I don't suppose I can blame him, though_ , Artie thought, _cooped up on the train, for hour after hour._

"Do it for me, then," he coaxed.

Jim looked at his friend's face; Artie really cared about him, he knew. He didn't want to do what he was asking, but he also didn't want to let Artie down, or make him think less of him.

"All right, I'll go and get dressed and saddle up my horse."

"Thanks, Jim," Artie replied.

It was a good job Jim didn't see the guilt mixed with anxiety on Artie's face as he watched him leave.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim and Artie had stabled their horses and were walking down the street toward the doctor's office. Artie was wearing his gun belt, while Jim was unarmed. The latter was still under the impression that he was going to consult a doctor. Artie knew that the man they were about to meet was, in fact, employed by the Secret Service, in a minor capacity. His name was Nathan Tedesco.

"There's nothing to worry about," Artie said.

"Why should I be worried? Do you know something I don't?" Jim asked.

"It's just that I know how much you hate doctors, that's all," Artie said, hating having to lie. He had to keep reminding himself it was all for Jim's good, in the long run.

As Artie led the way into the doctor's office, he stood to one side as the 'doctor' approached. At his throat he was wearing a large, shiny tie-pin.

The next thing Artie knew, his gun was yanked from its holster and he watched as Jim, stone-faced, used it to fire again and again at Nathan Tedesco.

Thankfully, the gun was filled with blanks, so no harm was done. Or at least that's how Artie hoped Jim would see it, when he realised the trick that had been played on him.

"Jim, are you all right?" Artie asked.

Satisfied that he had fulfilled his object, Jim had already returned to normal. "I'm fine," he replied, and then realised he had a gun in his hand, one that had recently been fired. He looked around him, frantic, and obviously convinced he had killed someone.

Tedesco had removed the offending tie-pin and moved to stand beside Artie. "Are you the doctor?" Jim asked him.

Tedesco looked at Artie. "No, Jim, and you haven't killed anyone," Artie reassured his friend. "The gun was filled with blanks. I'm sorry we had to test you out, but we had to know if our theory was correct."

"This was all a set-up?" Jim accused. He threw the gun at Artie. "Congratulations, you were right!" he said, turned on his heel and left.

Artie ran after him and took his arm. Jim shook him off and walked even faster toward the livery stables. "Jim, please listen to me." His words were met with silence, which continued while Jim saddled his horse.

"Talk to me then," Artie tried again.

Jim stopped what he was doing and took some time to gather his thoughts and calm his emotions. Eventually, he spoke.

"I don't blame you, Artie, I realise now that must have been hard for you to do," he said, his gaze concentrated on his horse. Then he turned to face his partner. "But how do you think I feel, knowing that I'm not in charge of my own actions any more. How did Arcularis put it?.. _'simply a vehicle with certain useful preconditioned reflexes programmed into it.'_ I'm sorry, Artie, this is something I have to deal with myself. Don't worry," he added, as he saw his partner was going to remind him about the matter of being under house arrest. "I'm going back to the train, but I'd be grateful if you left me alone for a while."

With that, he hauled himself into the saddle and rode out of the livery stable. Artie saddled his own horse and followed him, at a slower pace, his thoughts occupied with what he could do to help his friend.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim stabled his horse aboard the Wanderer and then went straight to his room; part of him wished he'd never left it. He'd been angry but he had been telling the truth when he said he didn't blame Artie. He would have had to face the fact, sooner or later, that he was still a slave to Arcularis' conditioning. It was the way Artie had lied to him, and because he had taken away his last bit of hope. He lay on his bed, deep in thought, trying to puzzle out what to do and trying not to consider what the future held for him if he didn't break the conditioning.

After a while, he heard Artie enter and wondered if he would come to try and speak to him. Instead, he heard him go straight to his laboratory. _It looks like he's washed his hands of me_ , he thought, then decided he was being unfair to his friend. _Maybe I've hurt him,_ he thought. _Don't be stupid, of course you have and you've made him feel even guiltier than he needed to_.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

It was evening when Jim finally woke up, unaware that he had fallen asleep. He was feeling hungry and decided to find out what there was for dinner. He didn't like to bring up the subject of going out to dine in case Artie refused to let him leave the train. After this afternoon's demonstration he'd have to take the idea of house arrest a little more seriously.

He tentatively knocked on the door to the laboratory.

"Come on in, Jim."

Jim put his head round the door.

"What are you standing out there for?" Artie asked.

"Just making sure you're not about to throw something at me. I know I deserve it," Jim replied, entering the room.

"I should be apologising to you," Artie said.

"Let's agree to just forget it then," Jim said, "what have you got there?"

"They're for you," Artie said, "here, try them on!"

"They look like the glasses I borrowed from you when I pretended to be Professor Nielsen."

"They are, but I've replaced the lenses with ones made from polished smoky quartz."

Jim had put the glasses on and was peering at Artie through a grey film.

"I got the idea from the thirteenth century Chinese. They wore them to make themselves inscrutable."

"Well, what do you think?" Jim asked him, perching them on the end of his nose and looking up at Artie through them.

"I think they won't work if you don't wear them properly," Artie said, putting his hands up and readjusting them. "With these on, you can go where you like, without worrying that you'll be affected by anything shiny," Artie explained.

"Well, let's go out to dinner and put them to the test!" Jim said.

Glad to see his partner in a good mood, no matter how temporary might be, Artie agreed at once. As

As they left, Jim put on his hat and turned to give Artie a wistful look. _Damn it_ , Artie thought, _those glasses make him look even more attractive than ever. If we meet any ladies tonight, I won't stand a chance._

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	3. The Darkest Hour

Chapter 3

 **The Darkest Hour**

"The great object of life is Sensation - to feel that we exist - even though in pain - it is this "craving void" which drives us to gaming - to battle - to travel - to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment."  
 _―_ _George Gordon Byron_

Despite his earlier good mood, Jim had become quite subdued by the time they entered the restaurant. Artie had the impression he would have hidden his face behind the menu, had it been big enough. Instead, he remained focused on it long enough to have memorised the whole thing, taking no notice of his surroundings, including his partner, even when he took a sip of the whisky Artie had ordered for them both.

"Hey, take a look at that sweet-looking blonde over there," Artie said.

"Uh huh," Jim agreed, gaze fixed firmly on the menu.

"I think she's coming our way," Artie said.

"What!" Jim exclaimed, looking up at Artie for the first time.

"Ha, that got your attention didn't it?"

"Sorry Artie. Seems I've been saying that a lot lately. I just feel a little out of place wearing these things and I don't even know if they work, so I guess I've been avoiding looking at anyone."

Although Artie had been trying to make Jim open up a little, he was surprised that he had revealed so easily, what was on his mind. Maybe this whole experience had humbled him a little or, as he feared, the conditioning was having an effect on his control in all aspects of his life. He'd always wanted to see this side of his friend, but not for that reason.

"Relax, Jim," he said, "that's partly what we're here for, to test them out. And believe me, you have a lot more going for you than those mesmerising eyes of yours. I've seen plenty of women looking you over since you sat down. You look kind of mysterious, you know."

"Artie, you're making me blush," Jim said. Artie noticed he was more relaxed though.

"Now to the other reason we're here," Artie, said, "what'll you have to eat?"

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The real test of Jim's stoicism came when he met up with Colonel Richmond the following day.

"I see Artemus has come up with a temporary solution," he said, on seeing the glasses.

"Yes Sir. We tested them out last night and they appear to work."

"Good, good. Jim, there's no easy way to say this, but you must have realised by now, I can't possibly put you back on active service."

"Yes, of course," Jim said. He had realised it from the beginning and, during a restless night or two, had tried to bring himself to terms with the terrible blow. He hadn't quite made it.

"Until we find a permanent solution, I've arranged for you to be posted to Washington, on my persona staff." He didn't say _'where I can keep an eye on you,'_ but it was heavily implied.

"Whatever you say, Sir."

Richmond was relieved yet worried by West's easy acquiescence. He had been expecting more of an argument from him. "And you will remain unarmed," he said.

"Of course, Sir." If only the Colonel could have known how much it was costing Jim to answer with even that minimum of words. But Jim was at pains not to let him know.

"Take the rest of today off and report for briefing in the morning," Richmond ordered.

"Thank you Sir," Jim replied.

' _Damn it!'_ Richmond thought, as Jim left the room. ' _One of my best operatives is taken out of the field, and who knows if I'll ever be able to use him again?'_

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

While he was in town, Jim arranged lodgings and a carrier to fetch his trunk, and then headed back to the Wanderer to pack up his stuff. He guessed Artie wouldn't be surprised at the turn of events, but he'd have to let him know anyway.

"Hi, Artie."

Artie was reading a book when Jim arrived. He put it down, when he saw him, and looked up. "Hi Jim, how did it go?" he asked.

"Looks like I'll be in Washington for a while," Jim replied. "It's what we both expected isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Jim, I know how you must hate the thought of being stuck here."

"I'm all right," he said, "no need to worry about me."

' _Ah, back to being inscrutable_ ,' Artie thought. ' _Blast those glasses, I can't read his eyes_.'

Jim was holding onto his hat and turning it round between his fingers, something Artie had noticed he often did when faced with new situations.

"Jim put that hat down and talk to me!" he said.

"There's nothing to talk about," Jim replied. "Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine. What's in store for you?"

Artie could tell that Jim was in the mood to stonewall for as long as it took, so he gave in trying to get a reaction out of him. "I'm off to Denver," he said.

"To pick up a new partner," Jim guessed, and for the first time Artie could sense a whiff of bitterness.

"Yes, Nate Coleman, you remember Nate, don't you?"

"Yeah, great guy, you'll get on well together." ' _Not as well as us, I hope_ ,' Jim thought, selfishly. "Well, I guess I'd better go pack my things."

"Need any help?"

"No, I can handle it alone," Jim said. _'Better start off as I mean to go on'_ he told himself.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"We have to decide how we're going to proceed," Nate said. He was a broad-shouldered man, five feet ten inches tall, with blond hair, grey eyes, and the sort of beautifully-shaped hands that looked like they should be caressing the strings of a violin with a bow, but which actually packed one hell of a punch.

He and Artie were on board the Wanderer, having arrived somewhere near the town of Colton Springs, Colorado, that morning, after spending the last week or so in Denver on a routine babysitting job for the local judiciary. The threatened witness, in a Federal case, had been duly delivered safely to court and the defendant found guilty. Now they were on a new assignment, investigating the existence of an underground network of activists, who threatened to undermine the Government through violence. It was suspected that they were connected to the theft of ammunition from nearby Fort Blake, to fund their cause. Rumours about their activities had been picked up by government agents, at least one of whom had been killed by the group.

Both men were poring over a map of the area. "I suspect their headquarters will be somewhere outside of town," Nate said.

"I agree," Artie replied. "The town's not that big and it would be difficult for them to store a large amount of ordnance without causing suspicion. Still, I think I'll go see if I can sniff out information from the townsfolk. That leaves you to check out any buildings or hiding places in the surrounding country."

"Sounds fine by me," Nate said. "I'll go saddle up."

Artie nodded and headed for his sleeping quarters. He had to get himself ready for his part in the plan. As he artfully disguised himself as a slick-heeled city-dweller, with oily hair and a trim moustache, he couldn't help his thoughts wandering to his friend back in Washington. When he had a moment to spare he would concentrate on a solution to Jim's dilemma. Meanwhile, he hoped Jim was coping all right and keeping his head down.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

' _I wish Artie was here,_ ' Jim thought. _'I never believed I'd miss him this much.'_ Maybe he was just being selfish, knowing Artie's life was more adventurous than the boring and routine one he was living. Why drag his friend away from that and make them both miserable? He was sure Artie would have made the best of it, always looking at the silver-lining, the ladies, the culture and the company to be found in the Capitol. Personally, Jim would give it all up just to feel the freedom of movement, new situations and the camaraderie, even though it included the inevitable fisticuffs and the pounding he would receive in return. How satisfying it was to sit, with feet up, on the Wanderer, at the end of an assignment, his muscles aching, a glass of whisky in his hand, the liquid stinging his split lip as he sipped it, with Artie smiling across at him.

' _I must be mad,'_ he concluded. It was much more civilised to keep in condition by visiting the gym, daily. _'But boring,'_ the little voice in his head jibed at him. He was well aware that what drew him there for such long periods was the fact that everyone was in athletic kit, so he had no need to wear his glasses.

The only break in the monotony was when he was called to give evidence at the trial of Doctor Arcularis. In court, the doctor had looked calm, with a faint air of feigned humility, which sat ill on his usually arrogant features. His arm was still in a sling from the broken bone he had sustained during the attack by some of his victims, which Jim and Artie had arrived too late to stop, ( _what a shame_ ), and he had abrasions on his nose and chin. He had had to plead guilty to kidnapping, but denied he had conspired to kill anyone. He was merely a scientist, testing a theory. He hadn't expected it to work and it had not. The murderer, Ahkeem had been the only one to die, shot by a Federal Agent.

Now, awaiting the verdict, Jim hadn't any serious ideas about what he could do to rid himself of the predicament that he knew was sapping his confidence and, to a greater degree, his own, usually strong, self control. He'd considered if the lack of a gun had affected his ability to rely on himself, but even now he knew he wasn't that shallow or cowardly. He'd meet a man in a fair fight any day of the week and had done on numerous occasions. Anyway guns sometimes complicated things.

Later that morning he bumped into Colonel Richmond. "Jim I have some news for you," Richmond said.

"The verdict's in?" Jim asked.

"Yes, Doctor Arcularis has been sentenced to twenty years in Sing Sing. He managed to avoid the charge of conspiracy to murder, unfortunately, but he was found guilty on the rest of the charges. The judge asked me to thank you for your testimony. He and I are both aware what it cost you to talk about the things that man did to you."

"I was literally bouncing off the walls," Jim recalled. _'Now what made me say that? The old private me would never have volunteered that information.'_

"Anyway, I thought you'd be pleased to know it's all over and done with as far as he is concerned."

"I'm not sure it is, Colonel."

"What do you mean?"

"Well now I'm not a witness against him I'm free to talk to him. Could you arrange for me to visit him in prison? I'd really like to speak to him about his experiments. He might be the key to how I can reverse the effect of his conditioning."

"Certainly, Jim, I should have realised. I hope you find the answers you're looking for. I'll have someone get on it right away and you'll be contacted with the date and time."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

James West was following a warder, down a corridor, to the room where his meeting with Doctor Arcularis would take place. He looked through the window at the Hudson River; so close and yet so far away, for those incarcerated in Sing Sing. He had already been through the humiliating experience of being told to hand in his gun, on arrival, and having to explain that he, a Special Agent for the Federal Government, was not actually carrying one. He had ignored the surprised looks and simply asked to be taken to see Doctor Arcularis, glad for the first time that he had the glasses to hide behind. ' _How are the mighty fallen,'_ he said to himself, _'or maybe I was never mighty but just thought I was.'_

He turned his thoughts back to his mission as he was shown into a small, bare, dark, depressing, room which no sunlight could ever penetrate. He had been seated only minutes before the door opened again and Doctor Arcularis was brought in and seated opposite him. He wore only fetters, so as not to hurt his broken arm. A warder took up position in front of the door.

"Mr West," the doctor said, "how kind of you to visit me, especially when you consider our previous encounter. I don't hold you responsible for my incarceration, you know. In return I do hope you can forgive the fact that Mr Ahkeem forced me to kidnap you and do those terrible things to you."

"Of course, I feel so much better knowing that you were not to blame," West said with a false smile.

"I didn't blame you for fighting back either," the Doctor said, ignoring the interruption. "In fact, I probably owe you my life. If you and Mr Gordon hadn't rescued me from that rabble..."

"Your victims, you mean."

"... I would have suffered a lot more than a broken arm. I want to thank you for that."

"Please don't."

Arcularis wasn't perturbed by West's attitude. "But why have you come to visit me?"

"I hate to say it but I need your help."

"I don't want to seem churlish, Mr West, but I'm hardly in a position to be of much use to anyone given my present accommodation."

"That's not an issue. I want to talk about the conditioning."

"What about it?"

"How do you break it?"

"Break it? Oh, I see. The conditioning would have been broken the moment you shot your assigned victim, Chief Ho-Tami." There was a momentary pause. "Ah, but you didn't shoot him did you?"

"You know very well I didn't, which is probably the only thing that saved you from the death sentence."

"For which I am also grateful to you." He laughed. "Forgive me," he said. "I can't help finding this amusing; the great James West unable to control his impulses. Tell, me what form does the impulse take? You don't still want to kill the old Chief do you?"

"No," Jim said, knowing he would have to admit everything to this man if he were to receive his help. "It's connected to the jewelled tie-pin Ahkeema was wearing when you completed my programming," he admitted. "It caught the beam from the lantern in the lighthouse and bored its way into my brain somehow. That's why I shot him and not Ho-Tami."

"So, you are compelled to shoot anyone wearing a similar tie pin. Ah I can see, from your face, that it's worse than that. Tell me!"

"Anything shiny worn at the neck," Jim realised that Arcularis might be his only hope and was willing to reveal anything necessary. "I've already tried to kill a woman wearing a necklace and a fellow agent."

"Ah, that explains the glasses. I take it, by your presence here, that you didn't succeed."

"No. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Jim, might I call you that? I think after all the time we spent together I have that right. Jim, when you fastened your attention on the tie-pin, you overrode my conditioning to some extent. You interfered with the programming. I'm afraid there is absolutely nothing I or anyone else can do to help you."

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	4. Into the Night

Chapter 4

 **Into the Night**

"...and it was not until I began to think, that I began fully to know how wrecked I was, and how the ship in which I had sailed was gone to pieces."  
― Charles Dickens, _Great Expectations_

Artie drew quite a lot of attention when he arrived in Colton Springs, late that afternoon. Now that quartz mining had more or less dried up, in that area, the population had dwindled and it was unusual to see visitors, especially ones dressed in a city suit and brown derby.

After stabling his horse, the visitor made his way to the only boarding house and paid in advance for a room for three nights.

"I reckon that'll be sufficient time to wrap up my business here," he told the proprietor, Mrs March, a middle-aged woman of ample proportions. In Artie's experience landladies all looked like that, except the mean ones.

"And what might that be?" she enquired. They were usually nosey as well.

"A friend of mine said there might be some parcels of land going at good prices around here. I was thinking of buying some of it – for a client of mine, of course."

She looked sceptical. "Good luck to you then, I got work to do."

Artie took his dismissal with a smile, tipped his hat to her, and headed down to the saloon. Once there, he sauntered up to the bar, pushed his hat to the back of his head, planted one elbow on the counter top, and one foot on the rail provided.

"Whisky, bartender!" He said, throwing money on the bar, and was soon provided with a glass, and a bottle, from which he poured a small measure.

"Here's to you!" he said.

The man next to him at the bar looked over. "You're new in town," he said.

"Sure am," Artie replied. "Name's Theobold Crouch," he added, shaking hands with the man.

"Marcus South," the man replied. "Mind me asking what you're doing in these parts?"

"Not at all, I'm looking to buy some land for a client, and a friend suggested I might pick some up at a good price hereabouts."

"Then, I'm afraid your friend was mistaken."

"About what, the land or the price?"

"Both. I'm sorry you've had a wasted journey, Mr Crouch. How far have you travelled?"

"From Nevada, I was looking at a ranch for another client of mine."

"Maybe you'd have more success if you went back there."

Artie could tell when he was being warned off.

"Well, I thank you for your advice, Mr South, I really do, but seeing as I've come all this way I think I'll stick around a little longer, see if I can't come up with something."

"Well, that's up to you."

"Do you happen to know who the biggest landowner is around here?"

"Yes, that's Abel Gardner; he lives a half a mile outside town."

"Much obliged to you Mr South," Artie said, taking his whisky and settling at a nearby table, from where he had a good view of the staff and patrons.

It wasn't long before one of the saloon girls noticed his lonely state and walked over to talk to him. "Want some company, mister?" she asked, glad to see a fresh face, and a handsome one at that. He looked like he might have money too.

"Well now, I believe I do. What's your name?" Artie asked, pulling out a chair for her to sit next to him.

"Angie," she replied.

"What'll you have to drink, Angie – no don't tell me – champagne, am I right?"

The girl leaned over toward him. "You sure know how to treat a girl," she said.

"Only the pretty ones," he said.

While they were drinking, she put her hand on his leg and Artie decided to get down to business before things went any further.

"You know anything about that man I was talking to, Marcus South?" he asked.

"Sure, everyone knows Marcus. He owns half the town, including this place, the general store and the undertakers."

Artie's senses went on alert. A powerful man like that could easily be in a position to run a group like the one he was searching for. It was a little unusual that he should own the funeral parlour as well. Artie had a distrust of undertakers; they always gave him the creeps and they had the perfect hiding place for dead bodies.

He placed a five dollar bill in Angie's hand. "That's for the company and the information," he said. "I gotta go now."

With that he placed his hat firmly on his head and walked out of the saloon. It was nearly sundown and the street was almost deserted. He started to weave a drunken path toward the boarding house, just to allay any suspicions that he might be up to something other than going to pass out on his bed. When he arrived there, he changed clothes, ready to sneak out, later. At the appointed time he climbed out the window and headed for the clump of trees just outside town, where he was supposed to meet up with Nate. As he crept along the road, he didn't notice the movements in the shadows around him.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

James West was back in Washington and standing in Colonel Richmond's office.

"Well Jim, how did the visit to Doctor Arcularis go?" he asked.

The look he saw on the agent's face not only told him the visit had been unsuccessful but that Jim was heading into some dark place. If he could have read West's mind, at that moment, it would have confirmed his fears. Jim had the feeling he was on a rudderless and anchorless ship, bashing helplessly against the rocks, with no way to save himself from the onslaught. That it was not physical, made it no less overwhelming and painful. _Was this how he and The Service were going to part ways?_

Jim swallowed and looked down at his hands. "Doctor Arcularis held out no hope for me," he said.

"But, surely if the man did this to you, he can undo it?" Richmond argued.

"Ah, but you see Sir, I did this to myself. I took the only way I could see of saving Chief Ho-Tami's life but in doing so I ruined my own."

"But there must be some way..."

"No, I have to give up on that way of thinking. If I had to do it again, I would. Saving Ho-Tami also saved hundreds of thousands of lives."

"But at what cost!" The Colonel exclaimed.

"It's not as if it's the end of my life," Jim said, "I'll go on living. I'll just have to adjust." He essayed a brief smile, to reassure his superior.

"I could give you a permanent posting in Washington," Richmond offered.

"That's good of you Sir but, you and I know it wouldn't suit me. I knew someday I'd have to give up field work and that I'd have to find some other kind of employment. It would have happened sooner or later but I'd hoped it would be later and I would be prepared for it, that's all."

Richmond laid a hand on West's shoulder and found it was rigid with the control he was exercising.

"Nevertheless Jim, there'll be a position here in Washington for as long as you want it. Give it some time and see if you change your mind, will you do that?"

Jim nodded in agreement. "If I might go now Sir; I have some things I need to see to."

"Of course, but you will come to me, if you need any help, won't you?"

"Yes Sir, good day Sir."

West left the room, to make ready mentally, to leave harbour, without charts or a compass.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

At first, Nate didn't realise that Artie was late for their meeting because they'd agreed to meet sometime between seven-thirty and eight that evening. After waiting until half past eight, though, he decided to take the risk of going to the boarding house, where he knew Artie would be staying. On the way there he saw something lying by the side of the track, reflecting the moonlight. On taking a closer look, he found it to be Artie's gun, the initials 'A.G.' easily visible on the butt. Nate looked around him, afraid that he would find his partner's body, but couldn't see anyone, dead or living. There were scuffed footmarks in the dirt and a trail of more, belonging to several men, leading back into town, which he lost among the confusion of trails on the main street. Nate had no idea where to begin so he returned to his horse and rode back to the Wanderer, to report.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

West had been keeping a look out for any news to come through concerning Artie and Nate, so he was one of the first to know when the message arrived from Nate that Artie had gone missing.

He tried not to panic, knowing how often he had gone missing on assignment and only now realising how Artie must have felt – poor Artie. But that was the way it worked. Jim was the impetuous one who rushed into trouble and Artie was the one who came and found him, sometimes to rescue him but mostly to keep him company until they could both free themselves. Artie was the cautious one, so how had he managed to get himself captured in the first place? Whatever, he just wished he could be there to rescue him or just be with him, to make sure he was all right. He couldn't help remembering the agent who had already been killed by the men Artie had gone up against, and now they had his friend.

Then it hit him. _'Why don't I go and find him?'_ He was just biding his time in Washington until he had the courage to call an end to his career in the Secret Service. _'Why not go right now? - Because Colonel Richmond would never allow it, of course.'_ Should he hand in his resignation? No, he'd be of more help if he was still officially a Federal agent. Besides he didn't have the time. The decision made, he wasted no time in going back to his lodgings, packing what he would need, and arranging his journey by train to a station near Colton Springs. Before anyone knew, he was gone; he had loaded his horse in the stock car and was on his way.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie woke up to find himself tied to a chair in an underground room somewhere. He flexed his muscles to ease the stiffness and looked around him. The room was bare except for the chair he was sitting on and a table. There was a metal door in which bars were set and, as he watched it, two men entered. One moved over to him and the other perched on the table. The latter was a man in his fifties with silver hair and strong features. He was wearing a pair of trousers in cavalry twill, an expensive shirt and a pair of top-quality riding boots.

"Well now Mr Crouch," he said.

Artie realised that, this well-dressed man who presumably owned the large, brick-built cellar, was probably Abel Gardner. However, he decided to play dumb.

"That's my name, what's yours, and why have you brought me here?

"Don't play games with me," the man said, as his sidekick smacked Artie on the side of his head.

"Ow! that hurts! What was that for?"

"Cut it out; I know you're an agent," the man said.

"Yeah," Artie agreed, "a land agent. I'm here looking for land to buy, that's all."

"Then why were you sneaking about in the dark last night?"

"I drank a little too much at the saloon so I went out for some fresh air. Look, you got me all wrong. I'm just an honest man trying to make a living."

"An honest man?"

Artie ducked as he could see the sidekick was about to hit him again. The blow caught him on the top of his head.

"All right," he conceded, "so I skim a little off the top by inflating the cost of the deals I make. My clients are rich men, they can afford it. What's it to you? I never had any dealings with you."

For once the man at the table looked less convinced about Artie being a secret agent. Artie decided to play on it.

"If you let me go, I promise to leave town and not come back," he said. "What d'ya say?"

The man looked him up and down. "Sorry Mr Crouch, you know too much. Davis, deal with him!" he ordered.

Before Artie could react, he felt a hard blow to the back of his head and he was out cold. Davis, the sidekick, freed him from the chair, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him out to the waiting cart.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The first thing West did, when he left the train, was to buy a gun belt and a couple of firearms, one of which he slipped inside his jacket. He was willing to wear the glasses day and night, if necessary, as long as it meant he could go armed once more. The next thing he did was to ride out to the Wanderer, which was in a siding about five miles further down the track.

It was early evening when he arrived and boarded the train. He took a look around, but there was no-one there. He left his travelling bag on a couch and then set out for Colton Springs.

Leaving his horse outside town he carefully made his way down the main street, hiding in the shadows. He noticed a light and headed in that direction. It turned out to be coming from the funeral parlour. Standing to one side, he took a quick look through the window. There was a body lying on the table. Two men were lifting it but Jim couldn't see it clearly. He removed his glasses for a moment, for a clearer look and felt his heart sink to his boots; it was Artie. Jim watched numbly as the two men placed him in one of the drawers situated along one wall of the funeral parlour.

Jim leaned back against the wall he was standing next to, too dazed to move. His brain felt frozen and he couldn't get his thoughts together. Artie was gone – and he hadn't been there – he _should_ have been there.

Blindly, Jim tore himself away from the scene and found himself back with his horse without knowing how he got there. He stopped for a moment and took two or three deep breaths. He had to go and find Nate.

He rode up into the hills and open country beyond the town.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


	5. Before the Dawn

Chapter 5

 **Before the Dawn**

"the truth is, I am heartily sick of this life & of the nineteenth century in general. (I am convinced that every thing is going wrong)."

― Edgar Allan Poe

With a painful heart, West rode his horse through the long grass, toward a clump of trees. As he drew closer he spotted something moving in the dark. He dismounted and drew his gun before advancing cautiously forward. It turned out to be a chestnut horse, drinking from a small stream, and Jim wondered if it might be Artie's. _'Was this where he had been attacked – and killed?'_ He lit a match and looked at the saddle and saw bloodstains on it. The breath went out of him when he also spotted the initials 'N. C.' tooled into the leather. Not Artie's, but it looked like Nate was in trouble too. Jim lit another match and looked at the ground where he saw signs of a scuffle and a trail of blood spots in the grass, leading away from the trees.

He took the horse's reins and led it back to his own horse. He remounted and rode in what he thought was the same direction as the blood trail, leading the other horse behind him. Every now and again he had to get down, and light a match so he could see the glisten of the blood spots, to make sure he was still on course.

Eventually Jim saw a black shadow in the distance that looked like the opening to an abandoned mine. Once again, he got off his horse, and approached the place as quietly as possible. The light inside the entrance was dim and further on in it was even darker. He was glad he had his miniature lantern with him. He removed the components from his pocket, put it together, and lit the wick with a match. The light it gave was good enough to enable him to search deeper into the mine.

The mine turned out to be a series of caverns and, he heard a muffled sound coming from one to the right of him. He crept cautiously forward and noticed a faint light coming from inside, produced by a lit torch on the back wall. He could see a man, seated on the floor, groaning and feebly trying to free himself from fastenings around his hands and feet. Even as Jim recognised him as Nate Coleman, he was hurrying to kneel down beside him to check his injuries. There was an obvious bullet wound in Nate's right shoulder, which was now bleeding sluggishly. He wouldn't be firing a gun any time soon.

"Nate, can you hear me?" he whispered.

"Who's that?" Nate mumbled.

"Nate, it's me, it's Jim West."

"Jim? No it can't be."

"Yes it is. How are you buddy?"

"I've seen better days," the other groaned.

"I'm going to get you out of here and to a doctor. Hold on in there, Nate!"

"What a touching reunion," a voice said, from behind West.

West stood up and turned around, to see a man he didn't know, but whom Artie would have recognised as Marcus South, pointing a gun at him.

"Who are you?" South demanded.

"I'm new in town," West said.

"What's with the funny glasses?"

"Why don't you take a closer look?" West dared him, and then regretted it when he saw two heavy-set, typical thugs, appear behind South.

They had him trapped in the small cavern and he didn't want to disturb Nate. Nevertheless, he felt he had to do something. He put his hands up in surrender and, at the same time, kicked the gun from South's hand. All three men ran at him and he leapt at the wall, kicked off from it, and hurled himself through the air, landing on top of them. A lot of kicking and punching followed, during which his glasses were knocked off and smashed underfoot. Feet and hands were flying and bodies were thrown violently against the wall. West had overcome two of them but a fourth man appeared, from further inside the mine, and caught him unawares, with a blow to the back of his head. He heard South say, "What the hell kept you, Davis?" before he blacked out.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

"Jim! Jim!" A Voice was calling him but he didn't want to wake up and face the pounding in his head. Then he became aware of pains in several other places as well and recalled the fight.

"Jim, are you all right?" Nate asked.

"Yeah, I'm just great," Jim replied, wanting to cradle his battered head in his hands, but finding they had been tied behind him. Then he remembered that Nate was wounded. "How are _you_?" he asked.

"I'm all right but we have to get out of here, Jim. What I didn't get to tell you earlier was that the stolen weapons were stored in the mine and the men spent most of yesterday loading them in wagons and shipping them out. They've left behind a bomb, timed to go off in about twenty minutes, by my reckoning."

Cool as ever, Jim didn't waste time on words but set his mind on how to get out of there. The only thing he still had on him was the knife concealed in his boot. He pressed the side of his right boot with his left and the blade shot out from the toe.

"Now we just have to work out the best way to do this," he said, knowing how difficult it would be for Nate to move. The easiest thing was to turn his own body so that his feet were in line with Nate's hands.

"You're going to have to twist round, lean sideways and hold your hands away from your body," Jim said.

Because of his shoulder wound, this was painful for Nate but he managed to hold them still enough for Jim to saw slice through the ropes with his knife. Once Nate's hands were free, he attempted to undo the ropes around Jim's hands. Then suddenly Jim felt Nate's body fall on top of him. The wound must have reopened, and Nate had passed out.

"Nate!" Jim called his name, trying to keep calm, his mind searching for a way out of the situation.

"Hello Jim," a familiar voice said and he wondered if the bomb had already gone off, and if they were both dead, because he couldn't think of any other way that Artie could be speaking to him. He looked up and saw Artie looking down at him.

"Artie, how the...you were...I saw you in the ... You were dead!" he finished.

He thought he saw Artie flinch as he said, "you weren't supposed to see that. I suppose there's no point in asking why _you're_ here."

"Artie," Jim was trying not to beam at him. There would be time for sorting things out later. "A bomb is going to go off in about fifteen minutes," he said.

"Why didn't you say so," Artie said, and instantly went into action. He cut the ropes around Jim's wrists, then dealt with the ones binding Nate's feet, while Jim dealt with his own. Between them, they managed to carry Nate out of the cavern and through the tunnel leading to the mine entrance. They had to get as far away as possible. They loaded the unconscious man onto the back of Artie's horse and they ran back to where Nate and Jim's horses were. They mounted up and rode, back to town, as fast as they could without hurting Nate.

The blast could be heard in Colton Springs and it brought people out of their beds and into the street.

"Nate needs medical attention," Jim said, ignoring the crowd and heading for the doctor's office. Thankfully the doctor lived above his surgery and was in the street with everyone else. When he saw them he ushered them into his office and ordered them to place Nate on the examination table.

Once Nate's shoulder had been treated and bound up, he was placed on a cot in the back room. Artie and Jim knew there was no way they were going to leave him until he regained consciousness, so they took up position in a couple of chairs and took turns to keep watch over him.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim was woken up at eight the next morning, having been awake half the night.

"Come on, Jim," Artie said. "Nate's awake and, if you want to say good-bye to him you have to hurry up."

"What?" Jim asked.

"The doctor wants to keep him here for another twenty-four hours and I have to get back to the train."

"Alright."

Jim said a temporary farewell to Nate and he and Artie rode back to the Wanderer.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim was keen to have a word with Artie but his partner put him off, saying he had to send an urgent report to Washington. "I had a word with Nate, this morning," he explained, "while you were still asleep. He overheard where they were taking the weapons and I need to let Richmond know so that he can send troops there to intercept them."

Jim threw himself onto one of the couches and sat watching Artie, drinking in the fact that he was alive and whole and was there with him. A smile touched his lips.

When he heard Artie sign off, Jim decided it was time for that talk. "We need to talk," he said.

"Yes," said Artie. "I think it's time we did."

"That sounds ominous," Jim said, with a smile.

"Jim, what are you doing here?"

"I saw the message from Nate saying you'd been kidnapped. I couldn't stay in Washington, not knowing what was happening to you, whether you were dead or alive," he said.

"So when you saw me in the funeral parlour you jumped to the wrong conclusion," Artie said, "even though you knew nothing about the situation here or what Nate and I had planned."

"Why don't you come out and say it," Jim challenged.

"Jim, you've lost your edge. In the past you would never have just accepted seeing what you thought was my dead body. You would have barged in and, either made sure of your facts or rescued me. Instead you go tearing off into the night and very nearly get yourself killed. You came here thinking the worst and so you didn't question it. You're just not thinking straight."

Jim swallowed. "You're right, Artie, what's happening to me?"

"You have to accept that you're not the same since the incident in the lighthouse. And where are your glasses?" he asked.

"I broke them in a fight."

"Jim, you are too reckless," Artie accused, "and I'm sorry but I've been asked to do something about it."

"Artie, what are you saying?" Jim asked, puzzled.

"Before I went to the mine, I came back here and contacted Washington to let them know I was all right. Colonel Richmond replied, telling me you had disappeared from your post, without permission, and he believed you were heading to Colton Springs."

"So I'm in trouble; I don't care about that. I'm going to hand in my resignation anyway."

Suddenly there was a gun in Artie's hand and it was pointing at Jim. He looked behind him to see if someone else had entered the carriage but there was just him. "Artie, have you lost your mind? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No Jim, I'm afraid not. You see, Colonel Richmond has made it plain that you can't be allowed to run around the country on your own, not with a time-bomb in your brain that could off at any second. Your odd behaviour only added to his fears. It would have been all right if you'd only agreed to take up a permanent posting in Washington."

"But he said the choice was up to me."

"Of course he did, but the decision had already been made. If you didn't take him up on his offer, you would have to be eliminated."

"You're not joking, are you," Jim realised.

"No, I'm really sorry, Jim" Artie said, genuine regret in his voice, and then, without warning, shot him.

Jim felt the thud in his chest and tried to say something. He never dreamed his death would be like this. He looked at Artie, standing there with an expression of sorrow on his face. Then everything went black and he crumpled to the floor.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim was aware of a sensation of floating on something soft and comfortable, like a cloud. He couldn't see anything. Maybe if he opened his eyes. He did so and Artie's sleeping quarters materialised around him.

"Hope you don't mind," Artie was saying. "I couldn't very well put you in your old quarters without asking Nate first."

"What...Artie...?"

"Before you ask, no you're not dead. But it was important that you believed you were."

"Why, what's going on?"

"Colonel Richmond and I concocted the whole thing," Artie explained. "We were really worried about you and we thought of trying one more thing to break the conditioning. When we realised you were on your way out here it seemed like the time to try it out."

"And what was this brilliant idea?"

"Well, we were working on the fact that killing Ho-Tami would have broken the programming and, as that now wouldn't work, maybe killing you would do the trick."

"Yeah, that definitely would have solved all my problems."

"I didn't enjoy tricking you, well...maybe a little bit. You should have seen the look on your face."

"Let's get back to the explanation, shall we?"

"Right, we reasoned that, if you believed you were dead, your mind would go back to normal. There'd be no reason for the conditioning if you couldn't possibly carry out any more attacks. I pretended to shoot you but I used a dart, coated in a new substance I've concocted. It renders you unconscious and, at the same time, makes your heartbeat and pulse barely detectable. It wears off after an hour or so. It's the one I used to fake my death, the night you saw me in the funeral parlour. It saved me from being shot."

"I was so gullible. And I can't believe I thought that Colonel Richmond would really want me killed, or that you would carry it out."

"You can't believe it now because you're cured. The conditioning's gone from your mind."

"How can you tell?

"Because I've been wearing this hideous tie-pin of Ahkeema's ever since you woke up and you didn't even notice."

"Well I..."

"Exactly. Now you have to get up. We have orders to arrest Abel Gardner."

"I like the sound of that 'we'," Jim said.

Then as they were riding toward town, he couldn't help asking, "Artie, how come your mattress is ten times more comfortable than mine?"

But that was a story for another time.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo


End file.
